Hazel
by Prose Vanity
Summary: You look in the mirror and your world falls apart when you see that what was once crimson has now become hazel.


**Author's Note **I took this from my _other_ FF account, the one none of you know about. :D Trust me, though, these are really mine. I haven't plagiarized anything. If you'd like you can check out the account itself, under the pen name _Halyse_, which is actually my real name — Ashley — rearranged. I've deleted them under that pen name. I used that account during my absence, experimenting with everything, you know. So…yeah! Enjoy. (:

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**Hazel**

You hold back all your emotions and maintain a stony face as you put one foot ahead of the other and pull the sliding doors out of the dizzyingly-alcohol-smelling, tightly air-filtered hospital room and slowly walk towards the dormitory. All around you, students are wearing their best black suits and dresses, and the cold autumn breeze seems to be in sympathy with the entire academy. Their sunshine - your sunshine, and your life - had just left them. Had left you.

Strangely enough, students were staring at you more powerfully than ever before, and though you knew just why, you keep moving, ignoring the rest of them. Your mind is in too much disarray that you could hardly care less what the whole world thought of you. Right now it was all about her.

You open the doors to her room and the powerful burst of air sent forth her alluring scent. Lemon-tangerine with a hint of jasmine, you suddenly recall. And in spite of yourself, you couldn't help but smile. The last time you were here you two spent the entire night just sitting on balcony, and you remember having her locked in a tight embrace, when, for the first time, you heard her say "I love you" with the deepest emotions one could have ever felt. Again, despite the overwhelming grief, you smile.

You step inside her room and the anguish relishes when you notice that everything appears in exact order as it was before - blessed you are with immense brain power, you know every single detail about the room, and you know nothing was moved from its proper place.

You trace her bedside drawer with a finger and see how no dust appears to have clung to her things, and with a pang, you wished it was all dusty and dirty, because seeing her room like this made the truth all the more surreal; all that this room proves to you is that she's still alive, and that any moment now she'd be banging through the doors, chastising you for having entered her room without asking permission first. It will be the usual argument over manners.

You fight back the urge to laugh.

And then you see on her bed the pillow you once gave her on Valentine's Day: the polka-dotted pattern, the strawberry scent, and the fact that it was shaped like underwear made her face all shrivel up and then, quite suddenly, she erupts in laughter and attacks you with hugs and kisses.

Again, you repress the laughter, and you wonder - what's wrong with me?

Still, he knew that that pillow's details made it almost certain that that would be the most unforgettable gift she'd ever have in the entire course of her life.

Her life. That's now over.

You double over and you choke.

You swallow back the stone climbing up your chest, forcibly working its way up to your throat, and in an effort to lessen the sudden bolt of pain, you sit down on her bed and think.

You wonder why this had to happen.

You wonder why the fuck she made this happen to you.

You feel frustrated, because somehow you were already content with the thought that you were never going to see the horrors of the world again. Somehow - and you had no idea how it happened or why you felt that way - you were relieved to find out that you were to become blind for the rest of your life.

You feel mad, because it was enough that she died for you!

And then you feel the anger pulsing white-hot through your veins. She already made it hard for you when she gave herself, why did she have to do this as well? Was it her way of revenge for all the times you tormented her about underwears, strawberries, polka-dots? Was it her way of reaching you from the grave?

No, you hear your conscience say. It was her way of letting you know she'd love you forever.

You snort, disbelieving. You don't want to believe that, because you knew she knew that you'd never want her hurt.

"Is this some sort of joke, Mikan?" you ask to the room at large, while watching your hands shake uncontrollably. You are still fighting the tremors rocking your spine, fighting to keep your cool, though no one is around to see you break down.

Silence ensued, and you feel demented, missing her sweet voice and the way she'd respond to your every word.

And yet again you wonder why she had to do this to you.

But somehow you think you already know the answer.

You hear the door creak and you know it's your best friend. You hear him speaking to you about things you don't want to comprehend right now but you just nod your head. You hardly listen to a single word he says, because you're detached from the world right now, and you know he knows why you're like this. He also knows it's his fault, because it was he who told you she had gone. It was he who dealt you the fatal blow. Not the accident, not the three-day comatose, but the news he had said to you.

He knew it was his fault because it was he who brought you the news of her permanent departure.

Again you hear the door close gently and with a painstaking effort, you lift your eyes to the mirror in front of you and you take every single detail in as - with a heavy heart - you remember what had happened three nights ago.

You close your eyes and lay back down the bed and with a blow of the cold autumn air through the open window, the memories come flashing back...you wince, and breathing starts to get shallow as the memory replays itself like a film inside your head.

You two riding through the cold night on your motorcycle, running away from the AAO after they realized your presence inside their headquarters -

- her pleading from you to let her use her Teleportation Alice so that you'll both get away unscathed, and you arguing with, saying "No" because you knew it would weaken her and cause her much pain -

- a Barrier Alice shielding you from escaping using an electric field as a block -

- you, cursing loudly, jumping off to face the thirty or so AAO people, conjuring a fire from directly above them, ready to drop it anytime, should they wish to hurt her -

- and suddenly you draw a deep breath when you come to the part that you recall as clear as crystal (though you really wish you'd just forget all about it).

Her figure running towards you, standing in front of you -

- the AAO laughing, and you were feeling left out, because you felt that somehow you knew they knew something you didn't -

- A sudden, unexplainable gust of wind gushing towards you from the left -

- her standing at your left side -

- and her getting hit by an arrow straight to the stomach.

Involuntarily you raise your hands to your face and with a slight surprise, you find that tears are gushing down your cheeks already, and tired as you are, you just let it flow freely.

You suddenly remember how the panic, grief, and loathing took over you that night, and how - in your sudden vulnerability - you set fire to all the men and women who stood before you wearing black cloaks. You remember how their engines exploded, how your eyes were hit by shards of glass, and how you felt her hand holding yours as, with a final breath, she teleported you back to Alice Academy. You get back to the academy without your sight, and suddenly, the hands that were holding your became limp, lifeless -

- And your entire world crashed, along with your eyesight.

You remember how Hotaru and Ruka found you, how they rushed you to the infirmary, and how you woke up three days later after comatose only to find them wearing black suits and dresses.

You remember asking them how you were able to see, and they showed you a mirror in reply. And what you saw killed you inside.

Unable to bear the pain any longer, you sit up again and wipe the tears from your eyes.

You look in the mirror and see the hard, well-defined planes of your face. You suddenly see yourself in sharp detail - because you have to give her credit, her eyes were clear as crystal, and for split second you wonder why she was too clumsy for her own good, despite eyes that were healthy (and again, you fight back the urge to laugh) - and you wince at all the alterations you find there. You see your strong jaw, clenched tight with fury and grief; you see your cheekbones, high and colored up with the suppressed turmoil of emotions rolling about your insides; you see your shiny raven hair, and for a while you think you felt her hand comb through it, although your realize it was just the soft wind blowing through the open window. You see your lips, then you close your eyes and sigh...the lingering feeling of her lips pressed against yours suddenly jumps to the forefront of your thoughts, and you think to yourself, Damn, I miss her.

When you opened your eyes, you see that the tears are there again, threatening to fall, along with the huge brick wall you have built around yourself and all your emotions.

And then, for the first time since three weeks ago, when your friends showed you the mirror, you see your eyes and swallow hard, for whatever had changed in your face could never compare to your eyes, which bore the greatest change of all.

You see her eyes staring back at you, and you know they're hers, because who else would have those beautiful brown eyes? You know they're hers from the countless times you stared into them and said "I love you," you know they're hers from the thousands of times you saw them glimmer with glee or tears.

And yet they're there, in your face, and what was once crimson now became the most gorgeous of all hazels.

With a maddening finality the wind blows strong, hard, loud, and you let the huge wall fall, the tears drop, escape from your eyes -

- _her _eyes. Her hazel eyes.


End file.
